Nest. Nothing, my lord.

Agam. The better. [Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR.
Achil. Good day, good day.

Men. How do you? how do you? [Exit MENELAUS.
Achil. What! does the cuckold scorn me?
Ajax. How now, Patroclus!

Achil. Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax. Ha?

Achil. Good morrow.

Ajax. Ay, and good next day too.

[Exit AJAX.

Achilles?

Patr. They pass by strangely: they were us'd to bend, To send their smiles before them to Achilles; To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep To holy altars.

Achil.

What! am I poor of late?
"Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer,
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit:

Which, when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that lean'd on them, as slippery too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me:
Fortune and I are friends: I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess,

Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out
Something not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses:
I'll interrupt his reading.-

How now, Ulysses! Ulyss.

Now, great Thetis' son!
[Looking up from his book.

Achil. What are you reading?
Ulyss.
A strange fellow here
Writes me, that man-how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without or in,—

Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.

Achil
This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne here, in the face,
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself,
That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
Salutes each other with each other's form:
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there
Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all.
Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,

It is familiar, but at the author's drift;
Who in his circumstance expressly proves,
That no man is the lord of any thing,
Though in and of him there be much consisting,
Till he communicate his parts to others:
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they are extended; which, like an arch, rever-
berates

The voice again; or like a gate of steel,
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this;
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.

Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse;
That has he knows not what. Nature! what things
there are,

Most abject in regard, and dear in use:
What things, again, most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth. Now, shall we see to-morrow,
An act that very chance doth throw upon him,
Ajax renowned. O heavens! what some men do,
While some men leave to do.

How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes!
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is feasting in his wantonness!
To see these Grecian lords!-why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrieking.

Achil. I do believe it; for they pass'd by me,
As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me,
Good word, nor look. What! are my deeds forgot?
Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion;

A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail

In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path,
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue: if you give way,
Or edge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;

Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on. Then, what they do in

present,

Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For time is like a fashionable host,

That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps-in the comer: welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. Let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,— That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust, that is a little gilt, More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. The present eye praises the present object:

The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold,
Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps,
Keeps pace with thought, and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb crudities.
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state,
Which hath an operation more divine
Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to.
All the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord;
And better would it fit Achilles much
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena:
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus, now at home,
When fame shall in our islands sound her trump,
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,-
"Great Hector's sister did Achilles win,
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him."
Farewell, my lord; I as your lover speak:
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.

[Exit.

Patr. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you.

A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loath'd, than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this:

They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus.
Swift, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.
Achil.

Shall Ajax fight with Hector?

Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honour by him.

Achil. I see, my reputation is at stake;

My fame is shrewdly gor'd.

Patr.

O! then beware:

Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves.
Omission to do what is necessary

Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints,
Even then, when we sit idly in the sun.

Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus.
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
T' invite the Trojan lords, after the combat,
To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's longing,
An appetite that I am sick withal,

To see great Hector in his weeds of peace;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view.-A labour sav'd!
Enter THERSITES.

Ther. A wonder!

Achil. What?

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field asking for himself.

Achil. How so?

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.

Achil. How can that be?

:

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock; a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say "there were wit in this head, an 'twould out" and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he'll break 't himself in vainglory. He knows not me: I said, "Good-morrow, Ajax;" and he replies, "Thanks, Agamemnon." What think you of this man, that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites.

Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering: speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his presence let Patroclus make his demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus: tell him,-I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the magnanimous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured, captaingeneral of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this. Patr. Jove bless great Ajax.

Patr. Your answer, sir.

Ther. Fare you well with all my heart.

Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? Ther. No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not; but, I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on.

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. Ther. Let me bear another to his horse, for that's the more capable creature.

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it. I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.

[Exit.

Ene. Is the prince there in person ?— Had I so good occasion to lie long,

As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too. Good morrow, lord Eneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, Æneas, take his hand, Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field.

Ene.

During all question of the gentle truce;
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance,
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm, and so long health;
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my fierce pursuit, and policy.

Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward.-In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy: now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed. By Venus' hand I swear,
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.

Dio. We sympathize.-Jove, let Æneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the sun!
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die
With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow!
Ene. We know each other well.

Dio. We do; and long to know each other worse. Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.What business, lord, so early?

Ene. I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not.
Par. His purpose meets you. 'Twas to bring this
Greek

To Calchas' house; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid.
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us. I constantly do think,
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night:
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefore I fear,
We shall be much unwelcome.

Ene.

As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death. Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy; But we in silence hold this virtue well,We'll not commend what we intend not sell. Here lies our way.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Same. A Court before the House of PANDARUS.

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.

Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold. Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down: He shall unbolt the gates.

Tro.

Trouble him not;

Cres. A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking:

That I assure you:

I shall have such a life.

There is no help;

The bitter disposition of the time
Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you.

Ene. Good morrow, all.

[Exit.

Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best, Myself, or Menelaus ?

Dio.

Both alike:

He merits well to have her, that doth seek her

go cousin Cressid?

Pan. How now, how now! how maidenheads?— Here, you maid; where's my Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle! You bring me to do,-and then you flout me too. Pan. To do what? to do what?-let her say what: —what have I brought you to do?

Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good, Nor suffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchio!

-hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! [Knocking. Cres. Did not I tell you?—'would he were knocked

o' the head!

Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see.-
My lord, come you again into my chamber:
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha, ha!

Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd; I think of no such thing.[Knocking. How earnestly they knock.-Pray you, come in : I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA. Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now! what's the matter? [Opening it.

Enter ENEAS.

Ene. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. Pan. Who's there? my lord Æneas! By my troth, I knew you not: what news with you so early? Ene. Is not prince Troilus here?

Pan. Here! what should he do here?

Ene. Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him: it doth import him much to speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn for my own part, I came in late. What

should he do here?

Ene. By Priam, and the general state of Troy: They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Tro. How my achievements mock me!

I will go meet them :-and, my lord Æneas,
We met by chance; you did not find me here.
Ene. Good, good, my lord; the secret laws of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt. TRO. & ENE.
Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The
devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. A
plague upon Antenor! I would, they had broke 's neck!
Enter CRESSIDA.

Cres. How now! What is the matter? Who was here?
Pan. Ah! ah!

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone!

Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?

Pan. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above!

Cres. O the gods !-what's the matter?

Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew, thou wouldst be his death. O poor gentleman!-A plague upon Antenor! Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you, what's the matter?

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench; thou must be gone thou art changed for Antenor. Thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it.

Cres. O, you immortal gods!—I will not go. Pan. Thou must.

Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; I know no touch of consanguinity;

No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus.-O, you gods divine,
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can,
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it.—I'll go in, and weep.—
Pan. Do, do.

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks;

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.

[Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Same. Before PANDARUS' House. Enter PARIS, TROILUS, ENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDes.

Par. It is great morning, and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon.-Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.
Tro.

Walk into her house,

SCENE IV.-The Same. A Room in PANDARUS' House.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong

As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross,
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS.

Because thou canst not ease thy smart,
By silence nor by speaking.

There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we see it.-How now, lambs!

Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity,
That the bless'd gods-as angry with my fancy,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities,-take thee from me.
Cres. Have the gods envy?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay: 'tis too plain a case.
Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy?

Is it possible?

Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents

Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time, now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into one loose adieu;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasting with the salt of broken tears.

Ene. [Within.] My lord! is the lady ready?
Tro. Hark! you are call'd: some say, the Genius so
Cries, "Come!" to him that instantly must die.-
Bid them have patience; she shall come anon.

Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root! [Exit PAND. Cres. I must then to the Grecians? Tro. No remedy.

Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again?

Come, kiss; and let us part.

Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus!

Tro. Good brother, come you hither; And bring Æneas, and the Grecian, with you. Cres. My lord, will you be true?

Tro. Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit
Is plain, and true,-there's all the reach of it.
Enter ENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and
DIOMEDES.

Welcome, sir Diomed. Here is the lady,
Which for Antenor we deliver you:
At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand,
And by the way possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe,
As Priam is in Ilion.

Dio.

I speak not, "be thou true," as fearing thee;
For I will throw my glove to death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart;
But, "be thou true," say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation. Be thou true,
And I will see thee.

Cres. O you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent: but I'll be true.
Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger.

sleeve.

Wear this

Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you? Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, To give thee nightly visitation. But yet, be true.

Cres.

O heavens !-be true, again? Tro. Hear why I speak it, love. The Grecian youths are full of quality; Their loving well compos'd with gift of nature, Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise: How novelties may move, and parts with person, Alas! a kind of goodly jealousy

(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin) Makes me afraid.

Cres.

O heavens! you love me not.
Tro. Die I a villain, then!
In this I do not call your faith in question,
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,

To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.
Cres. Do you think, I will?

Tro. No;

But something may be done, that we will not:

Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, To shame the zeal of my petition to thee, In praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece, She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises, As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.

I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge; For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, I'll cut thy throat.

Dio.

O! be not mov'd, prince Troilus. Let me be privileg'd by my place, and message, To be a speaker free: when I am hence, lord, I'll answer to thy last; and know you, I'll nothing do on charge. To her own worth She shall be priz'd; but that you say—be't so, I'll speak it in my spirit and honour,-no.

Tro. Come to the port.-I'll tell thee, Diomed, This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk, To our own selves bend we our needful talk. [Exeunt TRO. CRES. and DIOM. Trumpet sounded. Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet.

Ene.

How have we spent this morning!
The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.
Par. 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come, to field with him.
Dei. Let us make ready straight.

Ene. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity,
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels.
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth, and single chivalry.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATRO CLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and others. Agam. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, Anticipating time. With startling courage Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air